Thicker than blood
by Pthalo Blue
Summary: AU. What if Darry, Soda and Ponyboy were not brothers? Is blood really all that connects them or is there something deeper?
1. Chapter 1

He had very little planned for tonight. Despite Two-Bit's determination to get him to attend a party and Dally's attempt to get him to ride at a rodeo, all Darry wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for the next two years.

Unfortunately, his teachers had other plans.

Darry stifled a yawn as he dug into his pocket for the keys to his apartment. Before he goes to bed tonight, he will have to read about two hundred pages of the book _Gone with the Wind _and finish off the last of his essay for his history class.

He shuffled tiredly to his door, reaching out to unlock it. His hand blindly struck the handle, and oddly enough, the door shifted slightly open.

In the mist of his tired daze, Darry blinked at this. He usually kept his door unlocked just in case Two-Bit needed a place to crash (and he usually did) but even that idiot wasn't idiotic enough to leave his door open in this neighborhood. Darry didn't have anything worthwhile to steal but his college books were quite expensive.

He quietly nudged the door further open, peering into the darkness of his small one bedroom home. None of the lights were on and all he could see was his obscured shadow made from the moon. He closed the door behind him and flicked on a lamp.

Nothing looked out of place. The kitchen to his left still held this morning's breakfast dishes- he moaned internally. Another thing to do before going to bed. There was a pile of dirty laundry on his couch, his coffee table before it held a few of his books and in front of that, his very small television. On the far side of the wall was a book case (half full) and next to that, two doors that lead to the bathroom and his bed room.

Other than that, his apartment looked untouched. Nothing looked to be stolen or strangely molested.

Darry rolled his eyes, mentally making a note to smack Two-Bit across the head later. He kicked off his shoes and threw his backpack on the couch.

The backpack landed on the pile of dirty laundry with 'fwump' followed by a groan.

Darry froze. Shit, was Two-Bit there?

He stared quietly at what he thought was dirty laundry. The pile shifted and dirty brown hair popped up from the end. Darry knew right then and there that was _not _Two-Bit.

When the laundry shifted again and a dirty ragged face appeared, Darry sucked in a lungful.

It was a kid.

A boy. Probably only thirteen years old from the looks of it. But what made Darry's heart contract was the fact the kid's face was covered in bruises. His eye was blacken shut and his cheek was a mess of blue and purple.

"Hey," Darry inched closer, unsure on what to do exactly. "Hey, kid…can you hear me?" Why the hell was some kid in his home?

Hesitantly, he places a hand on his shoulder and shakes him. "Kid?" No response.

His moves his hand to the boy's forehead. His eyes widen. Jesus Christ, the kid was burning up!

The boy needed a hospital. Darry looks to the phone, thinking of calling 911, but decides against it. He didn't know how long it'll take an ambulance to get to his place. The kid needed help. Now.

As carefully as he could, Darry scooped the kid up in his arms. He was alarmed to find the boy feather light and bony as hell. Forgetting his homework and only pausing briefly to stuff his feet back into his shoes, Darry trekked out of his apartment and into the night towards his car.

()

A/N: I'm surprised nobody's thought of this yet. R/R peeps.


	2. Chapter 2

This certainly wasn't the way Darry envisioned his night to be.

The tall boy paced the waiting room of the ER, unsure _exactly _why he was still there. He answered all the questions the nurses asked for, though there really wasn't much he could really answer.

He found the kid on his couch. No, he doesn't know how he got there. No, he doesn't know his name or age or address or if he has parents. Yes, he brought the kid in. No, he doesn't know why the kid came to his apartment.

He should have left. Honestly, he could have left- he did his good deed, the kid was in safe hands now. But despite that, Darry did not budge from the waiting room. He wanted to know if the kid really was going to be okay.

So that was the plan: Check on the kid then leave. Let his parents deal with him.

It wasn't until an hour later did a doctor come out. Darry almost pounced on her. "So?" He asked. "How is he?"

"He'll be fine," The doctor assured him. Darry let out an internal sigh of relief. "He has a small fever and suffering from borderline malnutrition. We put him on an IV drip and in a couple of hours, he'll be up and moving again."

"What about those bruises?" Darry crossed his arms, thinking back on the black eye. "Nothing bleeding?"

"Yes…" The doctor then crossed her arms, staring up at the young man from her glasses. "The bruises are superficial, they'll heal. But what I am more interested in is how the child came to be in possession of those."

Darry blinked. Surely she wasn't… "You're not thinking that _I _beat the kid?"

"Mr. Curtis, I am not implying anything. But understand I am bound by law to report abuse when I see it and this boy has been abused," The doctor then sighed, looking back at the examining room. She shook her head. "And until we know by whom, Mr. Curtis, you cannot leave the premises until your report with the police is over."

Thinking back to his homework and the essays that sat unfinished on his desk, Darry moaned, "Perfect."

()

A male nurse was placed on duty to ensure Darry didn't run off. However, both knew if Darry suddenly chose to leave, there was no chance in _hell _could that male nurse stop him. And just to emphasize that part, Darry threw the poor nurse a few deep heated glares.

He didn't know why he stayed. He could be accused of abusing this kid. He could be arrested. He could lose his job, his scholarship, and everything else in between.

It bothered him, he supposed; knowing some fucker had beaten that kid. He wanted to know who.

It was with only that thought he was able to keep his butt in the hospital. Had the kid been a little older, perhaps Darry would've skipped out already.

"Darrel Curtis?"

At the sound of his name, Darry turned around. Standing in front of him was a rather short man with pale blue eyes and thinning brown hair. He wore a brown bomber-like jacket with dark pants and shoes. "I'm Detective Franklin," He held out his badge for Darry to see. "I'm going to ask you a few quick questions, is that all right?"

"Should be," Darry grunted. "It's not like I can go until you do."

Franklin's lips quirked upward. "You always have a choice. Remember that. Now Mr. Curtis, have you ever seen the boy in question prior to today?"

Darry shook his head. "No. Never."

"How about these kids?" Washington pulled out a few photographs of other young boys varying different ages.

Darry quickly looked the photos over and he shook his head again. "No. I've never seen them."

"Do you have any idea why this boy chose your apartment?"

"No."

"Do you know how the boy came to be in such a state?"

"Yeah," Darry said, invoking a raised eyebrow from the officer. "Obviously someone beat the poor kid within an inch of his life. Why aren't you asking him?"

Franklin sighed and put his notebook away. "I would," He said. "If he was here."

It took a moment for that comment to register in Darry's head. When it did, he nearly had a conniption. _"What?"_

Without waiting for the officer to answer, Darry strode past him to the room where he last saw the kid. He threw the door opened and found the bed empty.

"We call these kids Greasers," Franklin explained to Darry's shocked expression. "Most of them are runaways or orphans, refusing to be placed within foster homes. Sometimes we catch them, most of the time they slip through our fingers and we never see them again. Thankfully the nurse was able to give this kid an I.V before he split. Hopefully it'll help with his fever."

Darry turned on him. "Thankfully? Hopefully? The kid's sick! Why are you here and not out there looking for him?"

Franklin was not at all affected by Darry's accusation. "I already have four cars looking for him. There's a reason why we call them Greasers. The harder we try, the harder it is to hold on to them."

Darry groaned and leaned onto the door frame, pounding his fist against it weakly. He didn't know which he was more upset about; the fact that there was some sick kid running around, or the fact that he spent this whole evening worrying about that some kid who more than likely split as soon as he got him to the hospital.

Franklin gave Darry his card and phone number, telling him to call if the kid ever showed up again. The young man thought about throwing the card out, instead, shoved it into his back pocket.

()

A/N: I will rewrite the first chapter. I'm just…lazy. =P Sorry that this chapter took so damn long to get out. I have the whole fic thought out in my head. Hopefully I'll take the time to actually write it down.

Pony in the next chapter. Soda probably too. And Johnny. Maybe. This is a mostly a Darry, Pony centered fic.

R/R peeps.


	3. Chapter 3

The boy ducked behind a large trashcan just in time before the police light fell on him. He watched with heated breath as the light scanned the alley with deliberate scrutiny. Finally after what felt like an eternity, the light was pulled away. The boy gave out a breath of relief.

He stood and winced. The sides of his torso ached something terrible. He lifted the side of his shirt and grimaced. The boot shaped bruises on his ribs were large but he thanked god he hadn't broken any bones.

It was his fault, really. He tried to lift a man's wallet and was caught. He should've been more careful. The man had grabbed the kid by the wrist, almost crushing it, and began to teach the boy a lesson in stealing.

It began to rain. The boy groaned at his luck, popped his collar and started to walk faster. The cold drops of water felt good on his overheated forehead but felt like drops of ice cubes as it ran down his back.

He shoved his hand into his back pocket and cursed when he found nothing. Damn, the cops took all the money he had. It wasn't much- fifteen bucks- but at least it would've kept him from scouring trashcans for the next day or so.

The boy thought back to that apartment he stumbled in earlier and grimaced. When he found the door unlocked, the initial plan was to sneak in and steal something to pawn.

But that couch… he remembered so fondly; so soft, so inviting, the moment the boy sat down, he felt the pull of sleep poke at him. The next moment, he woke up in the hospital with an IV sticking in his arm.

The boy looked upwards towards the sky and it answered back with a crack of thunder. Taking the hint, he shoved himself into a small corner between two large garbage crates. The odd angle gave some protection from the rain, but not from the resulting puddles.

He sighed. _It'll have to do. _He knew if he stayed the cops would've called child welfare services. Sure, it would've meant food and a place to sleep, but it he didn't dare chance being sent back to his foster parents. He rather face being cold and hungry than be in constant fear.

He got himself as comfortable as possible. He then closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him.

()

Darry was furious.

The young man kicked his apartment door opened, stomped inside and flung his wet jacket across the floor. He slammed the door behind him, angrily kicked off his shoes and made his way to the shower.

It was bad enough the teachers gave him more homework than he could handle for one night. But then he had to come home to find some poor boy lying unconscious on his couch. It was bad enough when he took the boy to the hospital he was forced to stay to answer stupid questions. But then the kid decided Darry's good deed wasn't 'good' enough and decided to split.

And what did that leave Darry? No homework done, no proper answers to what happened to the kid, and a blood stain on his couch.

Frickin' perfect.

Darry stripped himself of his wet clothes, thinking about how much time he should put into his homework so he would be able to get to school on time tomorrow. It was nearly one in the morning and his first class was at seven-thirty… so if he spent at least two hours on his homework and be in bed by three, get about three hours of sleep and skip breakfast…

Darry groaned, suddenly remembering he also had to read another fifty pages of _Gone With the Wind. _There was no way he could do all his assignments and the reading unless he pulled an all-nighter.

Scrubbing himself clean, his thoughts went back to that boy.

He was so not worth all this trouble.

()

That next morning, the boy felt even worse.

He stood and immediately vertigo overtook him. His hand sought out the brick wall and moment he got his footing straight, he retched.

Gods, his head hurt. His chest ached and his eyes itched. He also found, very sourly, he was hungry. Staring at the mess he made, he wondered how could his body do such a thing and then demand food?

He shivered and saw that his clothes were still quite damp from the previous night. He needed new clothes, some aspirin and food.

First things first- eat.

()

A/N: Short chapter, I know. But finals are coming up and I think it's better to get this out because I probably won't be able to update for another month or so. I apologize for the very short chapter.

For all of those who were waiting for Soda/Johnny to show up, sorry again. They won't feature in this fic till somewhere in the middle. The person who is most likely NOT going to show up is Steve. But I am trying to get everybody together. Have hope! R/R!


	4. Chapter 4

At this point, Darry knew Two-Bit was just laughing for the sake of laughing. For the pure pleasure of mocking. Darry quietly sipped his coffee, waiting for the guy to tire of the fake forced laughter. Luckily for him, it was Dally who tired of it.

"You be quiet," Dally muttered, swatting Two-Bit across the head. "It wasn't even funny."

Two-Bit pouted. "Then you're not seeing it the way I am. Darry finds kid, Darry saves kid, kid leaves, Darry is stuck with the bill."

"Yes," Darry grumbled. "I can so see how that can be hilarious."

"Did the punk steal any of your stuff?" Dally asked as he took a swing of his coffee.

"I looked around but I didn't notice anything missing. From what I could gather the kid came in and then just collapsed on my couch."

"And aside from the tv and the silverware, you really don't have anything worth stealing."

"Two-Bit, I will hit you…"

"What about the cops?" Dally piped up, leaning over to grab yet another packet of sugar. He added the empty packet to his now growing pile of pink paper. "They have you in the system now?"

"I've always been in the system," Darry said to him, eyeing the pile. "By the way, I think I just got diabetes from watching you drink that."

Dally mixed his sweet coffee with deliberate vigor. "Har-har. You know what I mean. Because they suspect you for beating the kid-"

"They don't," Darry insisted. He frowned. "At least, I don't think they do. I was too busy worrying about the kid."

"Oooh…" Two-Bit grinned, leaning forward on his elbows eagerly. "Worried, were you? Did that kid…" He slyly patted Darry's arm. "…pulled a few of your heartstrings? Ignited the motherly instincts?"

Lighting up a cigarette, Dally muttered, "Knock it off, you moron. The point I'm trying to make, Darry, is that you tried to do a good deed and it bit you in the ass."

"Oh yeah?" Darry raised an eyebrow at the young man. "What would've you done, if you found some beaten kid on your couch?"

"Throw his ass out to the curb," he said without emotion. "If he wanted a home, he should go to the orphanage."

Darry grimaced into his coffee, hearing the cold tone in Dally's voice. They all knew the vague details of Dally's life- the hardships he went through. One would think because of that, it would've made the young man more sympathetic to others like him. It didn't.

Two-Bit made a whistling noise. "Woo, that's cold. Remind me to never crash at your place."

"Well," Darry stood. He threw a few coins on the table. "I gotta get home. I've got homework to do."

"You coming to my rodeo tonight?"

"Yeah, maybe," he threw over his shoulder as he pulled on his jacket. "If I get done on time. Don't hold your breath."

He quickly said his good-byes and left the little coffee shop. Darry's cold words were still ringing in his ears and he too wondered if this was all worth the trouble. After all, the kid came into his apartment, violated his space, wasted his time and his money. The young man only had his scholarship to rely on; his other expenses had to come out of his own pocket. His scholarship didn't even cover books or health insurance.

Huffing, Darry pushed those thoughts out of his head. He had homework to focus on.

He sighed. He didn't understand the damn book. To him, it was all just a giant romance and he didn't care much for Ashley's character. Darry saw the movie (he thought it was okay) and thankfully it helped him with following the book, but overall, he just didn't get it. Scarlett O'Hara was too much of a rich girl for him to feel any sympathy for her.

For a good deal of his walk towards his apartment he muttered such things to himself. He silently went over the symbolism, the words of the book, the personality of the characters; he was so deep in thought that he didn't registered the sight of a young boy scouring through trashcans until a few moments later.

He blinked and quickly backtracked. His eyes went wide at the sight of the kid, who was too busy looking through the trash to notice him.

It _was _that kid. The same one from the previous night. If the clothes weren't a dead giveaway, then the still swollen face was. The kid had one eye open and it surprised Darry to see, from this distance, on how incredibly _green _that eye was. Both of his eyes, if his other wasn't swollen shut.

He looked awful. His cheeks were red and Darry suddenly remembered the kid had a fever last night. The antibiotics the doctors gave him, weren't they working?

Suddenly, the kid seemed to finally sense someone was watching him. He looked up and fixed that green eye on Darry. It went wide.

"Hey-" Darry muttered.

The kid bolted. Darry reached out to grab him but the kid went right under his arm, dodged his hand and ran for it. Darry ran right after him, unsure why he was following him or what he'll do if he caught him.

_Damn he's fast, _Darry thought wildly as the kid placed distance between them. He willed himself faster. The kid suddenly took a wild right turn into the park by diving through some large bushes. Darry simply jumped over these plants but when he landed, he realized he lost track of the kid.

"Damn," he huffed, looking around. There were a lot of trees and a playground somewhere off in the distance, but the kid was nowhere to be seen. "Damn," he said again. No wonder the police called the kid a Greaser. He turned to leave when the sound of a wheeze caught his attention.

Quietly, Darry followed that sound.

The kid was crouched down behind one particularly large tree, a hand to his chest. His eye was screwed shut, tears streaming down his face as he fought to control his breathing. Darry noted the rattling sound of each breath and winced. The kid was really sick.

Slowly Darry placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. The moment he laid his hand on the shoulder, the boy's bloodshot eye flew open and he tried to run for it. Darry grabbed him, wrapping an arm around the kid's chest. He fought.

"Whoa! Calm down! I'm not going to hurt you! Calm down…calm down…"

The kid stilled, though obviously not to his own choice. His face was down, tears streaked across his cheeks while his chest made that awful rattling noise. Darry laid a hand across his brow, feeling it. It was hot.

He found himself in a predicament. He couldn't take the kid to the hospital, he'll just disappear again. He couldn't just leave the kid here, the boy needed medical treatment and from the way Darry could feel his ribs, food.

Darry knew what was the obvious choice here was and he wanted to moan out loud. Wasn't it just a few moments ago he was declaring that he wanted nothing more to do with this kid? He had a ton of homework to do!

"Shit," he murmured. "Kid, get up. C'mon, get up."

The kid fought again but Darry was easily stronger and much taller than him. "I'm not going to hurt you, stop that. C'mon, this way…"

Awkwardly with one hand around the kid's arm, the other around his torso, Darry half-dragged the boy down the street towards his apartment. The boy barely gave any resistance, if any, at this point and Darry didn't know if it was because he was too sick or he just given up. Either way, he wasn't going to complain; it made it easier to move him.

A few people gave him questioning looks though none made an effort to stop him to ask, "What's a six-foot man doing, dragging a young beaten boy down the street?"

A few minutes later he got to his apartment, literally carrying the boy up the stairs. The warmness of his apartment was a great welcome as he brought the boy to the couch.

He set the boy down, his large green eye staring at him hesitantly. Darry turned to go to the kitchen and at that moment, the boy shot up from the couch and ran for the door.

Darry swung around, hooking his arm underneath the kid's torso, effectively lifting him off his feet and threw him back down on the couch. When the kid tried to get up again, Darry decided he had enough.

"_Sit!" _He hissed, pointing threateningly at the kid. "Do _not_ move."

Eye wide, the kid stilled, his hands clenching the fabric.

Crap, Darry mentally cursed. He didn't mean to scare him. He sighed and stalked to the kitchen. There, he took out a container filled with leftover beef stew, dumped it in a pot and began heating it on the stove. While that heated, he went to his cabinet where he got some aspirin and a glass of water.

He came back to the kid, who thankfully did not move, and shoved the glass and aspirin into his hands. "Take that," he commanded.

The kid's green eye darted between his hand and his face. Slowly he took the medicine and water from him. Darry didn't leave until he saw the boy hesitantly swallow down the aspirin. Satisfied, he stalked back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later the smell of beef filled the apartment and it didn't take a genius to see the boy was drooling. A little smug, Darry brought the stew to the kid, along with a few cut slices of bread. "Don't eat too fast," Darry said, placing the bowl down in front of him.

The boy didn't touch it.

He looked like he wanted to, very much so. Darry waited for him to make a movement and all the kid did was stare at the bowl with this look of wanting. "Aren't you going to eat?"

The boy glared at him. "I'm not a prostitute."

"What?"

"I don't do those kind of things," the boy said to him, his eye darkening. "If you want that kind of service, there's plenty of guys on 7th street who are willing-"

"Whoa, stop right there," Darry held up his hands and backed away. "I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do."

Another glare. "I didn't want to come _here."_

"Yes, but I'm not asking you to do _that. _I'm…" Darry fought the shudder that threatened to overtake him. "…I'm not like that."

The boy frowned, eyeing the bowl suspiciously. "Then why are you feeding me?"

Darry crossed his arms, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his own skin. "Aren't you hungry?"

"…yeah…"

"Eat then," Darry needed to get away from that green eye, the one still staring at him. "If you think that's all I want from you, you can leave."

The bowl of soup was way too inviting just to leave. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to eat!"

The boy looked unsure if he should believe him or not. Slowly he picked up the spoon and brought it to his mouth. The next scoop wasn't so hesitant. The third scoop went in without restraint.

Darry watched the scene long enough to ensure the boy wasn't going to choke and went back into the kitchen. He searched the drawers for his old ice bag, the one he used back in high school for his knee. He found it, filled it with ice and went back to the boy.

He was pleased to note when he came back, he saw the kid scraping the remnants of the bowl with the last bit of bread. "Here," he said, passing over the ice bag. "Put this on your eye."

When he didn't take it, Darry huffed out frustrated, "Jesus Christ kid, I don't want that from you. Just take the damn bag!"

The boy took it, and carefully placed it on his face. That green eye stared uneasily back.

Uncomfortable, Darry went back to the kitchen to wash the dish the kid eaten out of. For the two minutes he was by the sink, he wondered what he should do now. Should he call the officials, the police, the welfare office?

Once the dishes were dried and put away, Darry went back to the living room. Thankfully, the kid hadn't move. He dutifully kept the icepack over his eye, looking miserable.

He was also filthy.

Darry eyed the dirty clothes, the mud stained shoes and the streak of dirt across the boy's cheek. He remembered that it rained last night and wondered if the kid had been caught in it. Without a word, Darry crossed over to his linen closet and pulled out a few clean towels. He tossed them to the kid and said, "The bathroom's over there. Hand me your clothes so I can-"

The boy stood suddenly. He threw the icepack to the ground and said, "I told you, I am not doing any of that!"

Darry gritted his teeth. Was he _still _going on about that? "And I told YOU, I don't want it!"

"That's what they all say!" The kid shot back. "The food, the medicine, the icepack…in the end, they all want the same thing."

Darry had enough. He tried to do a good deed and like Dally had said, it bit him in the ass. He wasn't about to stand here and be accused by some… _brat _of wrongdoings. Hadn't he already proven more than once that he had no intention of harming the kid?

He almost ripped the door off its hinges when he wrung it opened. "Get out," He spat. "If you believe I'm so malice then you can leave."

The green eye narrowed at him. "Gladly," he said.

Once the kid was out the door, Darry slammed it shut. He was furious. He'd never felt so mad in his life.

And yet at the same time, he felt sick.

His hands were shaking. Darry rubbed them together to stop them. He hadn't felt so sick since that time when someone had accused him of plagiarizing.

This was worse.

It scared him to think that young boy had been exposed to such things. That it messed him up so badly now he couldn't accept a kind gesture without thinking it came with a price tag.

Of course it didn't help Darry practically kidnapped him from the park, took him to his apartment and yelled at him.

Darry rolled his eyes. "Damn me to hell," he hissed, opening the door. He looked out, hoping to see the kid. The streets were empty except for the occasional car.

()

A/N: This chapter changed so many times. It took many different paths that would've changed the fic dramatically, in terms of length, plot, and characterization. I hope you guys liked it! R/R!


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